


Halo: Shadow Master

by DeviouslyKitt



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Original Character(s), Other, POV Original Character, Sangheili - Freeform, Science Experiments, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviouslyKitt/pseuds/DeviouslyKitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the an unknown Shield world lost and the UNSC once again finding a victory from impossible odds, the Covenant seeks alternatives to punish the infidels. While many are being tried, only one has is highly sought after. The humans created the Demons, destructive and powerful. What if the Covenant did the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halo: Shadow Master

**Author's Note:**

> Preface
> 
> Hello, and thank you for clicking the link to read this story. Ahead of time, I do hope you enjoy everything I have worked so hard to create in the name of entertainment and an elaborate exercise for Character Building. The Chapters that follow are all typed and given a rough over edit within approximately a week and a half's time, they are formatted in a way that Fan Fiction doesn't do it justice, so things may look different or might not translate as well as they would on a word or PDF file.
> 
> This stated, these chapters for now are all Rough Copies. The First Draft to a chapter book styled story that is being treated as if it is to be published (Though I doubt 343 Studios will ever know it exists)
> 
> As this is a First Draft, you can expect
> 
> Awkward exposition
> 
> Clunky sections
> 
> Plot points that might not make sense
> 
> Small grammar or spelling errors that I overlooked
> 
> Things that just don't make sense
> 
> While I read over every chapter once I'm done with it, there will always be things that escape my eyes that you all will see. Feel free to point them out when commenting!
> 
> Additionally, since these are First Drafts, I encourage creative criticism. I would love to hear how the chapter flowed, or if it needed to be changed, or if there's something that needs adding or take it out. You lovely readers are my editors as well, and praise is always nice along with the cautionary "This part here could have been worded differently". I don't expect college level responses nor do I expect people to give any responses at all. But when I'm done typing all the chapters, I will go through and refine them.  
> For now, or until I catch up on my writing, chapters will be released bi-weekly starting the second Saturday of January 2016. This schedule cannot be guaranteed, but will tried to be met
> 
> Now, the last thing to cover is purely copyright stuff and rating stuff.
> 
> Halo is a franchise owned formerly by Bungie, now 343 Studios and in some respect, Microsoft. Like everything that is submitted on Fan Fiction, there is no monetary gain to writing these stories and using characters, themes, concepts and so on that have already been pre-established. I write these for entertainment and intricacy of story telling.
> 
> And lastly, this story is rated M because of violence, gritty themes, and war. While there might be mentions of sexual activity later in the story, there will be no smut typed out. At best touchy feely moments that turn to implied 'fade to blacks'. Even that cannot be guaranteed.
> 
> Thank you very much for your time, and please enjoy the story!

_**Chapter 1** _

**1642 hours, March 1, 2531 (translated calendar)**

**Quarantined Vector 024-Sigma**

**High Charity**

**Star System Classified**

"Why have we come here?" the deep voice of the Jiralhanae would ask, the massive beast regarding the dismal and dank conditions of what equated now to slums. Though on the mend, some parts of the Holy City were still burning from rebellion and an almost all out war. Thankfully it had been quelled before the outburst got out of hand, but those caught in the cross fire of a blood feud paid the price. This left the monstrous space station in an unfortunate disparity with its citizens and military.

"There are subjects of interest here. Orphans that have been abandoned by their clan." the San 'Shayuum explained dully, his three elongated fingers of his left hand batting furiously at a holographic keyboard that materialized from the hovering chair that carried him. It wasn't near as elegant as those of the High Prophets of Truth, Regret, and Mercy; however it was far more sophisticated than an antigravity belt and considerably more comfortable. The Scholar himself was nothing impressive. His skin was beginning the stages of paling from old age, and the waddles covered in a white fur like hair. His vision was nowhere near as sharp, evident from the cataracts in his eyes, but his task was not to use his senses, but rather his sharp tongue and equally trained wit.

" _Orphans_?" the Jiralhanae known simply as Broode, asked in a gruff tone. "Why?"  
There was a half grumble of irritation from The Scholar. His eyes flickered with rage toward the tall figure that walked to his right, however, they would soon return to the frantic tapping. "You are here for your brawn, nothing more." he would explain, letting his frustration with the creature show.

The massive Jiralhanae would give out a grunt like scoff. An obvious disdain for The Scholar's inability to explain what exactly he was brought along for. The meek alien knew well that Broode had never liked to be bothered with small tasks. The beast's philosophy following a simple 'if it isn't pertaining to the Great Journey directly, then it is a waste of time.'

Idly The Scholar wondered if he had even mated or sought a mate. However he would quickly disregard the thought as the mental image brought him a shudder. "I see you're troubled by this, Broode." he explained finally in his aging voice. His lungs had never been the strongest, producing a voice that was more wispy and frail. "But there is merit to this plan, and one of many orphans we must observe."

"For _what_?" Broode barked back, his frustration showing even if there was an unconscious eagerness to the mission.

"I would like to remind you that this research is restricted information" The Scholar reminded. He would receive only another huff of irritation.

"However..."

The brute tilted his head and raised a brown and bushy eyebrow.

"What I can tell you is simple. We have found what makes the Demons what they are..." a pause only because of the clear growl he received from Broode. "And we know that with our superior might; we can make the Demons cower with the proper applications." the San 'Shyuum explained. His three digit hands would come together to steeple and tap together in a rhythmic fashion.

"But we need _orphans_?" Broode questioned, unable to get past that little point

"We need children. There is simply less red tape with taking orphans. No one cares for them."

Broode fell silent for a time. The only sounds were the soft thud of his thick feet as he continued down the abandoned roadways. The massive grayish pillars that surrounded them were homes. Definitely ' _were_ '. Most of them lay crumbled along the street. Blocking paths and even burning still. The rebellion had only been recently quelled and though only affecting a small part of the city, it would still take time to repair.

The Scholar would only look to his information. The hieroglyphs displayed to his weak eyes, and unfortunately to Broode's as well if he dared peer over.

"'Moram?" he spoke suddenly. The Scholar jerked his head to the tall brown figure. His eyes glaring to mottled brown beast. The sheen of his dark armor stood out from the matted fur. "'Moram as in…Sangheili?"

"Is there an issue?" The Scholar retorted with a curt hiss.

"Why is it _always_ Sangheili that take the glory?" Broode huffed out, notably jealous.

There was a moment of inner rage. The Scholar glared the beast down. A creature so massive that it stood several heads above his own and so wide that even the San 'Shyuum's torso wasn't as thick as one of the creature's arms. "The Sangheili have proved themselves, for one, through hundreds of years of loyalty. Something the Jiralhanae have failed to accomplish as of yet." The Scholar said crisply.

"Sir, I was only just-"

"Second, these Sangheili have been disowned by their kind. Heretics, and no higher in their ranks than the Unggoy." The Scholar interrupted, ensuring his point to be made clear.

Broode again fell silent. A lack of words moreover, but there was more concern to his features. Eventually he would hold out a large hand, motioning the Scholar to stop proceeding forward. It had only then become apparent that the road ahead was blocked. A fallen pillar with belongings scattered every which way from the force of an explosion. It was amazing how the Covenant forces were so outraged by their loss with a massive Forerunner Fleet on an unknown Shield World. The foolish and heretic Arbiter costing the Covenant a necessary asset had sent many over the edge.

They had collected an impressive gathering, most Sangheili, some Unggoy, and even a few Kig Yar. Their outrage with Regret allowing a dangerous and incompetent Sangheili Heretic hold so much power, only to have it squandered and lost to mere humans and Demons. The rebellion would only last for days, and was eventually quelled with a small garrison of forces. However the Scholar was surprised so much damage could have been wrought.

"Something is wrong." Broode said, interrupting the San' Shayumm's train of thought and admiration for destruction.

"Such as?" he replied, surprised he was interrupted by a rain of debris and rock. Broode would hold out his thick arm and flatten his meaty palm, the rocks bouncing off of him instead of the frail creature. The Scholar's own hands would cover his face, hardly necessary with the brute umbrella, but it was still a reflex.

With a minute passed, the barrage would cease. The silence eerie and foreboding. The Scholar would hesitantly lower his hands. His foggy eyes glancing here and there to try and spot a sign of their attackers. For a time, there was nothing. Not even a whisper.

Then there were yells. Young dirty forms approaching from what seemed every angle. The Scholar backed himself up, feeling the weight of his chair being displaced forward as one of the attackers landed on the back of it. That weight shifted again as Broode's thick hand took hold of the creature and ripped it free, tossing it effortlessly to one side. A howl soon sounded, the atrocious sound coming from the angry Jiralhanae next to him. Broode drew his gravity hammer, started forward and almost brought the mallet crashing down upon the one he tossed.

"NO! Do not attack!" The Scholar screeched, the undignified sound brought only from his desperation to have some attempt at gaining the trust of what were young Sangheili children. Most of them standing barely over a meter tall and clearly had been on their own for some time. Though only a half dozen visible, they all worked together like a pack of wolves. Their famished bodies only defending what was probably now their 'territory'

At the command, Broode snarled angrily. It took every bit of strength he had to stop his downswing onto the fallen child, who only glared up to him with waiting amber eyes.

_These children show no fear_ , The Scholar noted. _As if they were trained and season veterans for war. Has the rebellion truly been that horrendous?_

Again, The Scholar could only ponder over the conviction of these children. His files had suggested that 'Moram ran with a pack of older Sangheili, but he expected the pack to be in the middle of their second decade. None of the children before him appeared to have been any older than nine.

In the struggle of his inner thoughts, the other children had collected their fallen comrade, though their eagerness to attack had mysteriously vanished. It wasn't until Broode sniffed the air and turned his narrow gaze to the left of the odd pair that he realized why.

Most Sangheili were brown or gray in color. Their leathery or rough hide that was usually creased with ridges and wrinkles that patterned their bodies like ornate tribal tattoos remained common for Sangheili directly from their home world; Sangheilios. The children before him all bore that characteristic, except the one glaring him down just to his immediate left.

Amber eyes would almost glow from the dark smooth skin of this young Sangheili. Save for a gray underbelly, the small creature was almost black as night. A notably rare trait in Sangheili, The Scholar soon would recognize the subject. The small child's face bore wounds from a long since past skirmish, a noticeable upper mandible missing on its left side. There were cuts all along its body, traces of dried purple blood ran all along his thin body and only a brown tattered loin cloth covered him. More noticeable was the stick the little beast held, nothing more than a tattered old stick that someone likely had as a souvenir at one time. The stick remained close to its right side, a makeshift splint just below its knee making the reason for the crutch obvious.

The Scholar's feature's softened. While not worried, he felt pity for the little beast. The file spread out in holographic view before him suggested the target was barely 5. Had he not known better, he would have assumed the subject younger, its body so small he stood at an ungainly height of a head and a half smaller than its comrades. A shame, but that was something beyond the San'Shayuum's control.

"Jora?" The Scholar asked. "Jora 'Moram?"

The little black Sangheili sneered, its little snaggle tooth teeth bearing from behind the three remaining mandibles. " _Who_ is asking?" the little creature responded with a growl. Though the voice was young, The Scholar was shocked at the growl. Children that age were never this aggressive.

Broode suddenly entered The Scholar's peripheral vision. A step later and he was to the right of the chair, hammer at the ready. "Show your respects, _clutch runt_." The brute retorted.

"I show respect _only_ to Sangheili!" was the reply the adult pair received. The Scholar stared impressed for a moment and then noted Broode had taken another three steps forward. That hammer was ready for a downswing; however The Scholar noted how the other Sangheili children came to stand around the injured runt.

"Chieftain…" was all the San 'Shyuum had to say. Broode would hesitantly stop and back peddle a step or two, but his gaze never left the little group. "Jora, I am Hita'Ule Keedoc." The Scholar introduced, pushing the chair forward with a tap of a control button. "I and my accomplice have been sent to offer you an opportunity to join the Covenant's cause." He spoke, his voice soft and calming despite the unintentional rasp of a few words.

"I am too young." The Sangheili spoke, a left hand rising with fist clenched, a clear symbol for the others to move back. They did as the command suggest and Hita'Ule was impressed. _He's the leader_ , the San'Shayuum balked in surprise. His jaw would go slack and his eyes looked over the remaining group. _But he's so small! How can he be the leader?_

"Did you hear me Prophet?" Jora growled, his eyes flaring at an unknown temper. "I am too young. Why would the Covenant want me?" the little one asked.

"You…" he paused, still a bit dumbfounded. "You have potential. The Hierarchs and their subordinates see something. Perhaps it is your lineage or-"but The Scholar was cut off with a snort. Not from the Sangheili, but from the Jiralhanae.

"Broode, enough." The Scholar finally scolded, having more than enough of the Chieftain. There was a lingering gaze from everyone surrounding the Prophet, but eventually Broode would huff and move back, likely to sulk or to glare from a distance. "Regardless, Jora, the Covenant wants to take you in its ranks. To train you in the stead of your family." He said in a stern tone.

The Scholar noted the words seemed to hit home. As tall as Jora stood and as brave as he appeared, there was a moment for remorse. He was still a child and Hita'Ule wasn't at all surprised to see a glisten of a few tears followed by a sniffle. Jora's head would lower before his features softened, eyes looking around the group he likely had come to accept as brothers and sisters.

"What of my friends?" he asked, those once glaring eyes turning back to the San'Shayuum. "Will they be taken too?"

"No, I am afraid not. While they are all exceptional specimens, it is _you_ the Covenant wants at this young age." The Scholar said.

Another longing gaze went around the company. Gray faces turned to the black one, some conveying sorrow and other anger. "What if I don't _want_ to go?" Jora asked, his tone almost challenging

"You have no choice, I'm afraid. It is the reason the Jiralhanae is here." The Scholar explained, gesturing his bulbous head toward the looming figure in the fading light of a simulated star.

Silence again, this time the dark head bowed and weight shifted to favor the unbroken leg. The remaining mandibles twitched in thought and Jora's eyes betrayed his strong demeanor with pain. "Can you not do _something_ for them?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Give them homes? Food? A family? Something?" Jora added, his eyes coming back to The Scholar.

Hita'Ule pursed his lips. His dark foggy eyes flickered between Jora and the company he surrounded himself with. A moment later his head bowed and turned to the panels on the arm chairs. A few flickers of his fingers and he brought up a holographic screen. _I could always lie_ , he thought while he tapped in a message to his superior. Yet even that notion made him feel a bit guilty.

A reply came from the higher up. A go ahead that made The Scholar oddly elated:

"Your sympathetic heart is your downfall, but yes. If the subject requests aide for his little gathering of runts, I will see to it that they are put provided necessities until old enough to join the cause.

Bring them with you, but separate Jora."

"Your friends will be accommodated." The Scholar finally replied, showing relief in his tone. His eyes caught the faint signs of confusion, then silent jubilation. "And unless there is more that needs to be done here, we shall depart." The Scholar spoke, turning his chair lightly and awaiting the ragged group to follow.

Little cloven feet moved without question. Two larger would stay back to help with the leader. Jora wasn't able to put any weight on his right leg, a concern for the San 'Shyuum but what was he to do. This point on, his only goal was to get the Sangheili children to an awaiting phantom at the edge of the war zone. Once at that point, his job was over and Broode's began.

At that point, Hita'Ule could only hope that whatever plans the Minister of Safeguard had worked out for the Covenant and the unfortunate individuals it hand selected.


End file.
